


It's Hard. It's Hard Being A Nobody, And No One Understands

by chucklingChemist



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Developing Friendship, Discussions Of The Heart, Edgy Teen Zexion, Gen, I Don't Hate Vexen I Swear, Pre-Canon, Puberty, Stressed Familial Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucklingChemist/pseuds/chucklingChemist
Summary: A Nobody is emotionless. They are incapable of expressing feelings. Anything they feel is a trick of the mind, nothing more.So, if that's the case, what is Zexion experiencing every time he thinks about Vexen?
Relationships: Zexion & Lexaeus
Kudos: 12
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	It's Hard. It's Hard Being A Nobody, And No One Understands

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone who writes Nobodies, I absolutely salute you because this was so difficult. You all are braver than US Marines. That being said, it was a lot of fun, and whether or not I think this turned out great or not, I'm probably going to try this dynamic again at some point. 
> 
> Also seriously I absolutely adore Vexen, but Vexen, not Even, being a good father? What a concept. Same with Xaldin. Love the guy, but boy he's so bitter as Xaldin I cannot imagine he was fun at parties.
> 
> Anyway I'm....not really sure exactly how much of this is even remotely canon, since there's so much we don't know about either of these but I hope you enjoy!

Zexion always found it curious how many rooms the Castle That Never Was had. So many of them appeared to lack a purpose, existing only for the apparent purpose of decoration with fitting names that clarified absolutely nothing. Was there a need to name every single hall, every path, every view as if it held some grand significance? A hallway is a hallway. A rooftop is a rooftop. The other Organization bedrooms weren’t named like that, after all. Each door rattled off the number they represented to the Organization, each room decorated with an identical bed and one or two additional adornments. Zexion felt lucky he was able to scrounge up enough munny to get a desk at the greater World That Never Was. Nothing much, and the tan wood against the white metallic sheen of everything else made it stand out like a sore thumb, but no one cared. 

They were Nobodies, after all. No emotion. No feeling. No reason to care about the aesthetic value of a desk. Which meant, of course, that as much as they all talked about their desire to reclaim their heart, it was simply that: talk. Without a heart, they could not feel true desire. Simply put, as Vexen explained it to him shortly after they were turned into Nobodies, they felt the logical understanding that they should _want_ a heart, and therefore could replicate the feeling of desire without truly feeling it based on their prior experience as humans with hearts. That’s how he explained it to him the last time he brought it up, at least.

Perhaps to someone like Vexen, they did feel that artificial desire. Vexen still held a substantial number of memories from his time as his other self. That was always his justification for his outbursts, anyway. Zexion did not. Memories of anything before becoming Master Ansem’s ward were fuzzy then, and now that he was a Nobody they were basically gone. Whatever had held him back during his years as Ienzo disappeared, allowing him to break out of his shell. No longer confined to….something. All he had left of them were little more than wisps of what, if he weren’t a Nobody, he might call a feeling. A lump in his throat when Axel came back from a mission holding ice cream from Twilight Town. An icy chill he pushed down when Xigbar focused on him too long. A flash of heat rising from the pool of his stomach every time Vexen talked to him like he was a small child. It was the whole reason he spoke to Vexen about the potential prospect of these occurrences, only to be graced with the non-answer of an answer that _well, logically it’s your brain recalling prior memories_. 

No, that couldn’t be it. Only emotions tied back to strong memories affected everyone else. Zexion did not have those same strong memories. 

Zexion did not have strong enough memories to bring even faint pretend-emotion back. His first distinct memories didn’t start until he was around ten, living at Radiant Garden. He was thirteen when he turned into a Nobody. Now he was fifteen. Thirteen percent of his life spent as a Nobody. Compared to everyone else who’s a Nobody, Zexion’s measly three years worth of memories couldn’t compare to their lifetimes. So why did he feel so…

The thought fizzled out, causing Zexion to ball up his fist. “Why are the words escaping me?” he muttered. “I’m just evaluating my thought process and putting words to it. It’s no different than what I’ve watched Vexen do.”

Granted, Zexion didn’t want to be compared to _Vexen_ of all the Nobodies, scholarly or otherwise. Vexen was the only who spent significant time studying matters of the Heart like back in their Radiant Garden days. Zexion did as well, but he apparently didn’t count.

He sat down at the desk, rummaging around the top drawer for a minute until he pulled out a dusty journal buried by papers. Nothing important, but a precaution. He had some kind of nagging in the back of his mind to keep this journal hidden, and Zexion knew better than to ignore those feelings.

No. Not feelings. _Thoughts_. Thoughts that didn’t come through as thoughts necessarily, but ideas without words. For a Nobody, this was an important distinction. 

Still, it was worth mentioning. That was the point of the journal after all: for Zexion to record his thoughts and worries (could a Nobody have worries? That was something Zexion decided better than to think about). It was something Master Ansem encouraged him to do back in the day to get him comfortable with expressing himself, before Zexion -- Ienzo, then -- was actually talking to anybody. Even now, it retained many of the same qualities as before. Maybe not with the exact intention Vexen intended, but not like _Vexen_ told him what to do anymore.

**_Tuesday the 15th_ **

_Lord Xemnas tells us we should try to recruit others like us. On one hand, it makes sense. We are, in theory, killing Heartless to restore Kingdom Hearts. More numbers in our ranks makes this easier. But more numbers increases chances of defection. The original eight of us all hold ties to Ansem, somehow. Anyone without this connection could prove difficult to align with our own ideals. Moreover, all eight of us appeared due to our experimentation of the Heart. Where would others appear?_

**_Friday the 18th_ **

_Woke up from a dream involving Number One. I can’t remember much of it, but I nearly forgot how different he looked back in Radiant Garden. My features look sharper now than they used to when I was a kid, but nothing like the old man Lord Xemnas used to look to now. Vexen still studies matters of the Heart. Maybe he has something in his research?_

  
  


**_Saturday the 19th_ **

_Snapped at Number Four today after he caught me in his library. He said children don’t need to enter his study. How stupid! I helped him all the time in the labs back with Ansem, and for him to just shut me out and call me a child is the most buffoonish thing he’s told me. What is he hiding in there? What’s so inappropriate for a child, which I’m not, anyway, that he insists on keeping me away?_

**_Sunday the 20th_ **

_Is it normal to experience feelings of malaise, even as a Nobody? I don’t have distinct memories as Ienzo unwilling to get out of bed. However, all I desire to do now is stay in my room, away from everyone else. It would not surprise me if this is why Number Eight prefers to sleep in his spare time, instead of something more productive like the rest of us. If I actually spoke to him, I would ask him why, but--_

Zexion scowled and slammed his journal shut without writing a single word. Memories of the past few days came flooding back to him and bringing those negative thoughts back to his head in full force. He hadn’t forgotten the encounter, but he had managed to push it far away enough back in his head he forgot just how angry it made him.

The audacity! It was so plainly obvious to him that he wasn’t a kid anymore: he was tall enough now that his hands, once obscured entirely by his Nobody coat, now poked out without the sleeves being rolled back. And yet, at every opportunity, the man talked down to him, treated him like some stupid childish prop. Talking over him, blowing off his suggestions and, most recently, the stupid study incident. After all, the idea of removing their hearts was _his_ idea. Not Number Four’s. Not Number Eight’s. Not even Lord Xemnas’ or Xigbar’s.

Zexion’s scowl dropped, twisting into thought. It was _his_ idea, right? Not one of the adults?

A knock on the door and a soft, albeit gruff, “Zexion?” broke his train of thought. 

Lexaeus. 

Why would _Lexaeus_ come to his room?

His scowl returned again, deeper than before. Lexaeus had no business here. He’d barely spoken to Lexaeus in the past two years, let alone ever said much of anything to him when they were at Radiant Garden. “ _What_?”

“Can I come in?” Zexion could hear the sigh through the door. “It’s been two days, Zexion. I’m getting worried.”

“Nobodies can’t get worried. Worry is an emotion.” _Oh goodness I sound exactly like Number Four._ “You’ve just convinced yourself you’re worried because I’m a child. Apparently.”

There was a quiet thunk on the door. “Okay, fine. I’m under the impression Aeleus would be worried about you, if I were Aeleus. Can I come in?”

Zexion drummed his fingers on the desk. On the plus side, Lexaeus never disrespected him. On the negative side, that could be due to a sheer lack of interaction. Or not. Zexion didn’t know. 

“I assure you I’m not doing this on Number Four’s behalf,” Lexaeus added. 

“And how would you know that’s what I’m thinking about?” 

“Zexion, just about all of us in that wing of the castle heard your argument with him the other day. We all know what happened.”

He tried to ignore the sudden flush to his face. “Oh.” He quickly shoved the journal back into the drawer of the desk, scattering the papers overtop again to cover it up. “Fine. If you insist.” 

That was all Lexaeus needed. He opened the door and snuck through -- far quieter than Zexion could ever imagine someone of his broad size to do well, let alone a former guard -- and leaned against the wall next to the door. It kept the door itself, while closed like it was before, otherwise free of barriers. 

He watched as the other man’s gaze traveled from Zexion to the wooden desk. “I didn’t know you had that.”

“I made a point not to tell anyone,” he said.

“Ah.” His gaze traveled toward Zexion’s bed. “Can I sit?”

“I suppose.”

A ghost of a smile cracked Lexaeus’ hard features. He pushed himself off the wall and strode over to the bed, gently sitting down on the bed. “So, Zexion. How are you doing?”

Zexion raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t think anyone’s checked up on you. Being a Nobody at this age can’t be easy. Much less a Nobody in this environment,” he said, gloved hand waved idly in the air. “Xaldin is unbearable enough as an adult. I’d hate to deal with that as a teenager, much less a teenager who’s emotions aren’t there but his hormones still are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lexaeus blinked owlishly. “You don’t? Vexen and Ansem never told you?”

“Told me _what_?” Zexion sneered.

Lexaeus sighed, his whole hard face softening as he did so. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t be disappointed. I’m not sure if I _am,_ in fact _._ I can’t imagine Even giving that sort of conversation much less _Vexen_ ,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and now it’s going to fall on me because I asked a question.”

Zexion crossed his arms and glared at him. “Lexaeus, I implore you to tell me what you’re prattling on about.”

“You're how old again?”

“Fifteen,” Zexion said.

“That’s what I thought.” He leaned back on the bed, letting his back touch the wall. “Zexion, you didn’t possibly start puberty when you were Ienzo, correct? No physical changes you can remember?”

Zexion shook his head. “My last growth spurt was two months and several days ago. It’s logged with Number Four, if you desire to check.”

“I trust your memory,” he said, cracking a smirk. “I also hold no desire to speak to Vexen at this time. He’s grating for extended periods of time. Less so than Xaldin. But only just.”

Zexion shifted around in his seat, narrowing his eyes. Lexaeus. A man who he’d barely spoken to this whole time, yet he knew was part of the Organization, if not Ansem the Wise apprentices, from the start. Trusted _him_. More than the man who actually raised him, if this was any example. 

The concept of anyone trusting him like that, much less someone like Lexaeus who spoke so little to anyone, was so foreign Zexion found it easier to not think about.

“Anyway,” he said, “what does my last growth spurt have to do with anything?”

“Well, if I judge anything based on your last argument, you’re well…” Lexaeus paused, frowned and shook his head, “I think you’re going through puberty. That’s part of the reason I wanted to know if you were doing okay first.”

“And the other?” Zexion asked.

Lexaeus shrugged. “You wanted to be taken seriously and--” 

Zexion slammed his hand down on the wood of the desk. “I wanted to be treated like an _adult_ , Lexaeus.”

“It’s the same thing.” Lexaeus adjusted his position, kicking up one of his legs so he could rest his elbow against it. “It wasn’t that long ago I was your age.”

“And how long ago was that?”

Lexaeus gave him a wry smile, one that made Zexion simultaneously realize Lexaeus was not going to tell him his age, and that Zexion was going to figure out how old Lexaeus actually was. “Long enough, I think. Long enough I remember fighting with my parental figures about the same thing.” He paused to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. “I think my anti-authority streak was more intense than just sneaking into someone’s study to read some documents.”

“I find you, as a former guard to…” the word _father_ died on his throat. _Ansem_ was only as much his father as Vexen was at this point, “...Master Ansem’s Radiant Garden behaving in an anti-authoritarian manner is, at any point unlikely. Then again...”

“What?”

Zexion’s hand came up to his chin as he looked away from Lexaeus (it really was impossible for him to imagine his voice raising, much less _yelling_ ), and he tapped it thoughtfully. A tic he borrowed from Vexen or Ansem, but it developed into his own all the same. “If you had behaviors like this, you can confirm if the outburst a few days ago constitutes me displaying emotions.”

Now it was Lexaeus’ turn to be silent. The smile on his face fell, and he looked...pained? Was that possible for a Nobody? “No. It’s just hormones. Increases in testosterone will increase aggression and to top it off -- actually? You know what?”

“Hm?”

The wry smile returned, full force. “I’ll grab you a book about puberty from his study. And whatever you were looking for in there, too. Vexen doesn’t care if I go in there.”

Something in the back of Zexion’s head told him now was the time to smile. Was it memories bubbling back up to the surface? A logical extrapolation of the situation his brain recalled after seeing Lexaeus smile? Something else? He didn’t know. But he smiled, and no matter how fake it felt on his face, it still felt _right_. “I’d like that,” he said. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna follow me on social media, I'm active still over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stormscourge) and [Tumblr](https://chuckling-chemist.tumblr.com/) and will be until the hellsites physically push me off. You can catch me there talking about stuff I'd love to write but probably never will. ^.^;;


End file.
